The Right Choice of Words
by IrethAncalime3791
Summary: While spending time late at night with Hermione, Fred thinks he'll try to score with his friend. Installment 1 of my Fred/Hermione series.


**The Right Choice of Words  
**

_Disclaimer_: Rowling owns the characters.

…

Pure hatred.

That was what Hermione saw in the glare Fred sent toward Umbridge. She didn't think that she had ever seen him look at someone that way before. Not even Malfoy had earned more than a look of disgust from the twins. The Weasley brothers were a rather cheerful pair, always good for a laugh. Somehow they always managed to see the brighter side of things.

It was a mark of how awful a person Umbridge was that such loathing would come from the twins. Hermione watched Fred continue to glare at the professor for a moment before bending his head to continue his lines. While she completely agreed and sympathized with her schoolmate, the young witch found his ill feelings slightly disturbing.

She could always count on both twins to bring cheer or positivity to the rest. If even their spirits had fallen, just maybe the situation had become hopeless.

Her brown eyes flickered toward Umbridge, who sat in her chair sipping tea, smiling that infuriating smile, evidently quite pleased with her progress in breaking the students. Hermione squinted, glowering at the evil woman as well. The witch didn't belong here. The woman was a tyrant, enforcing ridiculous and outrageous rules that were popping up at every corner for the sole purpose to break their spirits and keep quiet about the truth.

Hermione glanced back at Fred, who had returned to his lines and was gritting his teeth—whether in pain or anger, she wasn't sure.

…

"Here, Fred."

Hermione held out the bowl of medicine. Fred raised an eyebrow and looked up at her before leaning from his chair to inspect the liquid. Hermione frowned and rolled her eyes, feeling insulted that he had the gall to be suspicious of her.

"Don't worry, it's nothing of _yours_. It's a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles. For the wound." She sat down on the couch next to Fred, who appeared mildly impressed, with his eyebrows raised. He glanced at the writing carved into the back of his hand.

"You know, Hermione," he said, scooting forward in his chair to come closer, "I've always said you were a genius."

"Not true, but the flattery's appreciated," she answered quite blankly. Hermione set the bowl down on the table for him, but he didn't dip his hand in it. A smile played at his lips, and she gave him a puzzled look. "What?"

The smile broadened.

"I knew you liked me," Fred answered humorously. "You're just such a perfect little angel, you pretend otherwise." He placed an elbow on the arm of his chair negligently, leaning back again. "Probably afraid a hellion like me might defile you." A cocky smirk took shape at his mouth, but there was a small, appreciative glow in his eyes.

Against her will, the corner of Hermione's lips quirked upward, bringing Fred's eyes toward them briefly before meeting hers again. There were times that she could not help but be happy with him. Fred and George both brought something to Hogwarts every year that no one else could. Along with their air of slight arrogance and disregard for the written rule, they had the ability to bring a smile to nearly anyone's face in dark times. Hermione never admitted it, but they were a special part of life at Hogwarts to her.

Looking down from that sparkle in his eyes, she fought the urge to say that he alone was special to her as well.

She didn't know how long it had been true, but Fred Weasley had become a friend that she was glad to have. Aside from his playful taunts in reference to her classroom talents, she knew that he saw her as someone special too. It was always there, in the way he casually flipped her frizzy hair as he passed her every day, and the way he so aggravatingly shut her textbooks as she jotted down notes for her essays when he strutted by her in the Common Room. It was there in the way he watched her at that moment, eyes locked on her face.

The feeling of him watching her stayed, and she did nothing to discourage it. Her eyes found the words deeply scratched on the back of his hand while it hung off the arm of his chair. _I must not cause trouble in class_, they said.

Trouble. They were _in _trouble, or they would be soon. The Dark Lord was out there, and all the Ministry was doing about it was keeping it hushed up, trying to convince the whole Wizarding World that there was absolutely nothing to worry about and that there was nothing to fear. It didn't matter that the truth was so flawlessly clear; the Ministry leaders were tightly shutting their eyes to keep from seeing it.

Hermione lifted her hand and slowly brought her fingertips to the scarred words on Fred's hand, and in response he gently turned it so she had better access to it. His eyes left her face and found her hand with his, and the smirk at his mouth softened. He turned his hand back slightly and brought up his thumb to brush over Hermione's fingers.

Then he stood up, and Hermione pulled back her hand in surprise as she glanced up at Fred. A grin shaped his lips again while he moved in front of the coffee table to take a seat next to her on the couch. He settled on the cushion next to her, keeping his eyes fixed on hers until he pulled them away to indicate his hand.

"Would you mind terribly?" he asked, offering it up to her care. "You know, since you're so good at it."

Evidently the answer was yes. She said nothing but looked down at his waiting hand and clasped it in one of hers. With her other one she brought the towel and bowl of solution to her lap. Fred's hand was laid on the towel once it was smoothly placed near her knee. Hermione used her free hand to dipped her fingers into the liquid and bring them back wet to the cuts on the back of Fred's palm. He felt relief from the cool liquid as it soothed the sting, though he enjoyed feeling Hermione's soft gentle fingertips more. He watched them as they brushed over the words carved into his skin.

The words caught his eye, and he dropped the grin completely. He studied them, reminded of why they were there. Fred tightened his jaw, instantly remembering the sight of the hag sitting contently on her throne of tyranny, munching her biscuit. Fred turned his head to the lit fireplace in front of him and Hermione, momentarily tuning her out as she rubbed more solution on his hand while he studied the licking flames.

Hogwarts had gone to hell, and it was because of Umbridge. Almost all of the good things had been taken away…the things that had given him and George any reason to love school. Not the classes themselves, of course, but the gatherings, the unity, camaraderie. Now no one could have a simple conversation with someone from another house without having written permission. He had to serve detention for pretending to not know anything at all about defensive magic as his twin mimicked a Death Eater cursing him. He was banned from the Quidditch team for trying to do in Malfoy (though thanks to his friends he had failed).

"You know, I do believe I hate the woman," Fred proclaimed nonchalantly.

The fingertips stayed at his hand, slowed, then picked up more steady speed again. Hermione glanced at him from under her eyelashes.

"I know. I do too," she answered softly.

"No, you don't understand," Fred told her as he continued to stare in the fire. "I _loathe_ her. More than I've ever disliked anyone before. I really believe that if she was hanging from the top of a cliff, and that if I was the only one around and could give her a hand…" Fred paused for a moment, thinking about what he was saying. She might think him awful. He didn't change his next words though. "I would turn around and walk away."

Hermione's fingers stopped moving over his hand. He didn't move to look toward her, and she stayed still as she watched him. She noted his listless, vacant expression, and she looked back down at his hand. When he felt her clasp it tightly, he finally turned his head to look back into her eyes. He saw something like understanding there.

"The truth is, Fred," she answered, "I do feel the same way." He didn't reply, but he started to believe her. "I thought if I told someone that, they would start from shock or something, because they all think…" She chewed her lip in thought, then gave a grim smile. "I'm a perfect little angel."

He blinked.

"Really?"

She continued to smile mirthlessly.

"You just put it into words so perfectly," she said. "A marvelous analogy."

He grinned lightly. Then he turned his head back to the fire. He decided that since she understood, he would tell her and be done with it.

"George and I have decided to leave."

He could see her cheerless smile drop from the side.

"What?" She stared at him in shock.

"We just can't take it anymore, Hermione." He turned and gazed at her, looking wounded, depressed. Defeated. She had never seen him look like that before, either. It nearly broke her heart.

"Fred, please don't," she pleaded softly. She clasped his hand earnestly in hers. "You'll be something else that she's taken away…" Fred heard her voice nearly break before she stopped. "Something…some_one_ who made me love this place."

"Then come with me."

Her eyes widened slightly and her lips parted in surprise.

Fred reached over to grab her far hand, and he turned his scarred one around so that he was holding the other, leaning over urgently as he did. His eyes glinted. She watched him, inches from his face, already mulling over what he had said.

It would be _perfect_.

"Come with us. Come with _me_," he repeatedly softly, and she searched his eyes, considering the word _me_. Him. When Fred had said it, it sounded like _Not Harry, not Ron._

"You hate it here now too. It's suffocating here; we're not free anymore. You can just leave it, Hermione. You don't have to finish, you're smart enough to make it in the world."

He watched eagerly as she turned and began to study the flames. He could see them dance in her eyes as she went somewhere else. She was seriously thinking about it. It was a crazy idea, one that had come from nowhere, but suddenly he wanted it to happen, and he was insanely happy that she was considering it. He had made it that far. If she did it, he would be happier than he had been all year--possibly a few years.

If she said yes, they would escape together, leaving everything behind.

"There's so much to leave," she remarked quietly.

The bubble of hope stopped expanding, and Fred held on to it dearly, steadying his breathing to as not to make a noise that may take away its reason to grow.

"If I don't finish, I have no idea what could happen," she said, "…what I could or couldn't do."

Fred smiled.

"That's what'll make it an adventure, Hermione."

She took more time to think about it, still watching the flames flicker. He didn't take his eyes off her, and after a few agonizing seconds she turned back to him. Her face didn't give anything away. He didn't breathe.

_Say yes. Say yes. Say yes._

"I can't."

His smile froze, and the bubble instantly deflated to nothing, leaving everything still.

Fred searched her eyes, feeling his aching heart sink. Somehow, he had known something that good couldn't happen.

"I can't," Hermione repeated. "…Because…I'm not like you."

She was totally different from him and George, but didn't necessarily want to be, he realized. She was the sort of person who did everything required of her. She completed every assignment, attended every class, served all others, but never herself…because she _had _to. She really couldn't go off gallivanting, dropping out. School had become hell, but to her it was still school. She needed it.

All the top grades went to her, because she worked her tail off to get them. Hermione always showed enthusiasm when speaking of her more advanced classes, but he could recall times when he had seen her asleep at the table, her head resting on a large volume. He had seen her actually scowl at her paper as she wrote essay after essay, tightly clenching her quill. She struggled to learn as much as she possibly could.

There were always snide comments about her being the best or being perfect, but she worked hard in school because that was the kind of student she was. She worked to get as much out of the Hogwarts experience as she could.

She really did want to leave, he realized; but somehow, even more than that she wanted to stay.

So many times he and George had invited her, Harry, and Ron along on an outing or friendly get-together, and she had refused many of them. Sure, it was time management, Fred realized. But you have to _live_. He knew that she wanted to. Anytime she had refused his invitation, she had looked pained about it.

Hermione's brown eyes broke from their gaze, and she tightened her lips. Fred moved his thumbs softly over the back of her hands, mulling over what she had said. There was probably more to it than that as well. Rethinking the whole scenario, he realized that Hermione would never leave Harry and Ron behind. They were all a team, and he couldn't break that up. It would cut Hermione off from an even bigger part of her life in the Wizarding World. He wasn't good enough of a reason for her to leave that.

"I understand, Hermione," he told her softly. He looked her in the eye as she turned back to his.

He gave a sad smile and reached up to place a few stray strands behind her ear. Hermione stayed still, her eyes locked with his, but struggled against a tide of tingles.

"I'm really going to miss you," said Fred.

After listening to him say it, Hermione nearly regretted turning him down. The way he looked at her and what he said made her feel more intensely what she had already felt.

"Yeah," she said. "I'll miss you too." She smiled sadly back at him, unable to say what she really wanted to.

"Don't be sad." He leaned his head against hers. "Please. I hate seeing you sad."

"I hated seeing you so angry today," she murmured. 'You and George are always so…" She moved her head to lean it against the couch and looked up to the ceiling in thought. "…Lighthearted. You two don't let most things really bother you. But she does. That's how terrible she is, how terrible it is now."

He listened and watched her, balancing his thoughts between her words and her lips.

"I didn't realize you were counting on me to always wear a smile."

"No, that's not what I meant," she said with a sigh. "Just that—"

"Relax," he murmured. She dropped it and closed her eyes to rest them for a moment. "I know what you meant."

And he reached up and quickly gave her lips a light brush with her thumb before laying on them his own.

His eyes closed, and hers opened. Then she reached up to cup his face in her hands and closed her eyes again, mentally noting every feeling of this new occurrence from the euphoric elation to his hands gently surrounding her face to his lips slowly moving on hers.

They kissed for a few moments, and then Fred pulled away before leaning his forehead against hers. He moved his nose lightly against hers with both their eyes still closed.

"I'm still not going," Hermione whispered. Fred laughed gently.

"I know," he said.

"It wouldn't be enjoyable with me anyway," she said at normal volume. "I'd always give you advice you wouldn't want and tell you what you should do and ruin your fun."

"Probably," he murmured, unable to provide a more articulate response though he didn't completely agree with that one.

He tilted his head again. "This is fun," he added between a couple of kisses. "Hm?"

"I suppose," she struggled to say as her bottom lip was caught between both of his.

They went at it again for a few moments. The only sounds Hermione heard were Fred's breathing getting heavy and more irregular and the soft noises of their lips. She noticed that his were moving faster as well. His hands went behind her back and one slid up into her hair. Chills ran down from her head as his fingers combed through her hair around her skull. She felt his death grip on her wrinkled shirt, tugging from behind.

For a couple seconds longer she actively kissed back. Then she slowed her lips as she reached back and placed a hand over the one clutching her shirt. He took the hint.

"Sorry," said Fred breathlessly, pulling away. He let go off the fabric and entwined his fingers through hers. They both closed their eyes as their foreheads met again. His other hand continued to move through her hair, his fingertips slowly raking her head.

Hermione giggled. Fred heard it and smiled. Hermione hardly ever giggled, and it sounded so cute.

She moved, and her hands reached up across his shoulders and met behind his neck. He shifted and enclosed her in his arms, rubbing his nose against hers.

They sat for a while like that, not making a noise until Hermione sighed.

"So when are you leaving?"

"Don't know yet. Couple of weeks, maybe."

"Hm."

He thought she would suddenly ask him not to, but she didn't. She only sat there, letting him do whatever he may.

"You're a special girl, Hermione," he murmured.

Then her eyes opened. She saw his closed lids and his nose. Her arms slowly went limp around his neck.

_Special_?

Fred opened his eyes and beamed at her. Her eyes danced back and forth with his, and she had that starry-eyed look he had learned to expect with the right choice of words.

Then she slowly leaned forward, and he waited, letting her do the work this time.

Her lips met his. She started kissing him slowly, and he smirked as she steadily accelerated her pace. Fred indulged his urge to become more enthusiastic, kissing her back. He hugged her more tightly and began kissing her harder.

She didn't resist when he slowly leaned forward, pushing her down. His hands slowly moved up and down her back as she hugged him tightly. As he rested her with her back to the couch cushions, she brought a hand up to his head, where she combed her fingertips into his hair. He was aware of her other hand lightly running down his back. In his mind surveyed the situation.

Fred then felt Hermione smile against his lips and heard her chuckle in her throat. She surprised him by pulling away, turning her head to laugh even more. He noticed the rhythmic movement of her chest as he simultaneously wondered what was so funny.

Hermione's laughter grew, and she brought a hand over her forehead as her body quaked with extreme amusement. Fred could see her eyes moistening.

"_What _is so funny?"

She ignored his bewildered demand as she continued to display sounds of great mirth along with happy tears.

"Hermione…" Fred tried again.

He waited a bit longer, and finally her laughter weakened and quieted. She smiled as she stared at the flickering flames of the fire that reflected their waving light on her face. A happy flush had spread over her cheeks. Fred studied her face earnestly with a furrowed brow.

She then sighed, and she turned back to him, still smiling.

"Oh, Fred. Fred Weasley."

"…What're you laughing at?" he asked incredulously.

"_Special_," she muttered. She shook her head and used a hand to push his chest upward so that he would be sitting up again, and she sat up also.

"It's true," he insisted.

"Yes," she replied. Then, to his further disbelief, she stood from the couch and walked around it, leaving him. "But honestly," she added, turning back around to face him from behind as he stood as well.

"…How many other girls have you tried that on this week?"

Still smiling, and without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked to the staircase that led to the girls' dormitories. When she reached it, she stopped and turned around once more. Fred still stood against the fire, gazing at her with little expression.

"Goodnight, Fred." She smiled once more, with endearment this time. Then she turned back to the staircase, with a swish of her hair that might have been on purpose, and she disappeared up to her room.

Standing there staring after her, Fred did what he could to soothe his ego by repeating to himself that he _did _genuinely feel something for Hermione Granger and that he _had _truly wanted her to join him in the epic escapade from Hogwarts…no matter how many other girls he had looked at recently.

The fire popped and crackled behind him, making the only noise in the room to remind him that he was left alone and not engaging in whatever physical activities he might have managed with his fellow Gryffindor. The bowl of murtlap still sat on the table. Fred turned to stare at it, reminded that Hermione was truly a gem in that she was concerned for everyone's wellbeing. His lazy side kicked in, and he didn't bother to take it with him as he began walking to the staircase that led to his room.

On the way to bed, Fred decided two things.

One: Hermione Granger was a true match in wits.

Two: Girls talked far too much.

…

_Author's Note_

Oh, boys.

I always saw a possibility of Fred with Hermione. He's smarter than Ron, and he's more charming. I can see Hermione and him getting close enough light a spark, and I think he can be seen as flirtatious in the way he talks down to her in the "Oh, how young you are and how little you know about the world" way. He could fool around with her not-so-seriously but have serious feelings about her deep down. Which is completely normal for guys, eh?

SO. This has been stuck in my head instead of my Remus/Lily stuff for a while. I hope everyone enjoyed it. Please do give some constructive criticism, even if it's nitpicky. I want to improve any way I can, and I feel my biggest struggle is with scene description…which is anything that is not dialogue, I guess. I know people are patiently awaiting updates on my Remus/Lily fic. I'm sorry that I'm so slow with it, and I will try to update soon. I feel my mojo kicking back in, so hopefully that means you won't be waiting much longer. If you haven't read my other fics, please check them out and tell me what you think!


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